“How do you feel?” she asked. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. They were delighted. Although Melusine had taken care to trouble herself about the hand she had cut, and was glad to find it healing very well. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite.
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